


I'm Here

by ohhstark



Series: Forged From the After [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Almost Kiss, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Lots of Angst, Other Characters Are Mentioned, but it's mostly the nick and nora show, but not quite yet, it's practically a kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-12 18:36:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7117873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohhstark/pseuds/ohhstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I told you,” Nick said and his voice was a hard, shining, cutting thing. “I’m here, Nora."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It is such a simple thing. A whirl of light and wind and she is out of the Institute. She lands in Sanctuary and it almost feels like a slap in the face to see Sturges. His eyes are round and curious and fuck if it doesn’t make her hands shake what he must be thinking. 

“General, are you okay?” Preston says from somewhere over her left shoulder. She wants to turn to him, but she can’t quite complete the action. Her mind is in free fall. Flipping and flipping over itself with more questions than answers. Yes, she’s found the Institute. She has found her son. But it wasn’t anything like what she had expected. 

Now, she felt only…bereft. Like something had been carved from her chest. 

All this time, she had been looking for a baby and then for a 10-year-old boy. She remembers Shaun’s face, so perfect and innocent, in Kellogg’s memories and for the first time she wonders if that was really her son. Was it her Shaun, or was it the synth prototype? But then, did it really matter? 

“I need to see Nick,” she says at last. Her voice is hoarse, like she’s been screaming. 

“I’m here, Nora,” Nick’s voice washes over her and it’s a very near thing that she doesn’t break. She turns and smiles brokenly at the concern in his eyes. She holds out a hand to him and he takes it. As if he had only been waiting for her cue. 

He pulls her close. Presses a kiss to her hair and a hand to her waist.

“I’m right here,” he says. And she thinks that it’s all she’ll ever need to hear. 

He doesn’t push for information. He just leans against the wall and lets her put her head in his lap. He cards his human hand through her hair. She listens to the quiet whirring of his processors and soaks up the heat and oil smell of him. 

If anything in this new world is real, it is him. It has always been him. Nick Valentine who has equal parts machine and human. Who was hard when he had to be but kind and generous in all the ways that mattered. She couldn’t pinpoint the moment she started to love him. Thinking back, it could have been one of any thousands of moments. It could have been meeting him in Vault 114. It could have been searching for Eddie Winter’s holotapes. It could have been the Memory Den and the terror of putting a part of Kellogg into himself in order to help her find her son. 

Her son. Who was not a baby and was not a little boy and was instead an old man who had never known anything but the Institute. 

Her mouth fills with saliva and her stomach churns on itself. She flies out of Nick’s embrace, his fingers snagging in her hair. She runs for the back door. She barely makes it outside before she is heaving up the contents of her stomach. 

She knows they can hear. Sturges and Marcy and all the rest of them. They can hear her weakness. They can hear her breaking and falling and unable to get up again. She had known this would be hard. She had known it would hurt. But not like this. She had missed out on sixty years’ worth of memories with her son. With the only family she had left in this world. 

And the worst part, the very worst part, is that she has no one to be angry with. She can't be angry at Kellogg. He was just a cog in a machine and God help her, but she’d seen good in him. Damned as he was and disgusting as what she’d seen him do, there was light in him. Not that it had stopped her from murdering him in cold blood. Hell, if she wanted to start blaming Kellogg then she would have to blame herself too. She can't be angry with The Institute. Not when all of the people who’d orchestrated Shaun’s kidnapping are probably dead and buried and long, long gone. Shaun is The Institute now, had been from the moment she’d set foot out of that vault. He was probably the reason she’d gotten out in the first place and didn’t that just turn her stomach. He’d left her there, knowing what she was to him. 

“Hey,” Nick says. She whirls on him and would have struck him if he hadn’t grabbed her wrist. She stares at him, stares into those yellow eyes and sees very real fear reflected back at her. He knows what all of this means just as much as she does. “Come on.”

He presses a canister of water into her hands and she has to pull away from him to wash the taste out of her mouth. When she's done, he tales the water back and sets it gently on the ground beside them. When he turns back to her, the look in his eyes makes her want to scream. He gathers her in his arms and it's so fucking tender.

“Just leave, Nick,” she says. Before she can wrap her mind around the words. Before she can tell herself to say them. Then they are there. Sliding and shifting and falling in the little space between them. A knot forms in her throat and she wants, she wants so badly to take the words back. She doesn't want him to leave. Can’t imagine getting through any of this without him. Not now. Not when she needs him the most. But it is all too much too fast and when they are only just beginning to explore whatever it is between them, it seems cruel to drag him into this. 

The last thing she expects is for him to reply. But reply he does and it finally makes the dam within her break. 

“I told you,” Nick says and his voice is a hard, shining, cutting thing. Forged steel pressed just there below her heart. She forces herself to look at him. Meets his gaze and nearly flinches at the emotions that she shouldn't, by all rights and reason, be able to feel at all. “I’m here, Nora. You’re angry, and I can understand that, but I won’t let you push me away for whatever stupid, noble reason you’ve got bobbing around in that beautiful brain of yours.” 

Then he pulls her into his chest and she clutches at the lapels of his trench coat like it is the last thing keeping her tethered. 

_It is._

“I’m not goin’ anywhere. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you,” she says and holds her breath as she leans forward to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. She closes her eyes at the sensation and wants, _wants_ , to push further, but she doesn't. And Nick just smiles like the gentleman he is and hoists them both to their feet. 

It is only when he leads her inside and she sits back on the bed that she realizes how tired she is. It has been a hard day, a terrible day. But she made it through and she would make it through the next day and the next. 

Because if this new world has taught her anything, it is that survival is the gift that keeps on giving. It isn't free by any means and she is only now beginning to realize just how much will be taken from her in return. But she has Preston and MacCready and Sturges, Piper and Cait and even Daisy in Goodneighbor. And she has Nick Valentine at her side. 

And with them, she can do anything.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s something in the air. Charged and uncertain and _wonderful_. She wonders if it’s her or him or the both of them together, flitting around each other and around the thing that’s obviously there. The thing that they refuse to give voice to.

She wakes with the sun and isn’t surprised when she finds Nick slumped forward in one of the chairs in her living room. He doesn’t sleep, she knows that well enough, but he looks so peaceful running diagnostics that she almost feels bad about disturbing him. 

“Nick,” she says and her heart jumps when he immediately perks up. 

“Shit,” he mutters and runs his human hand over his face. “How long was I out?” She just smiles and shrugs her shoulder at him. There’s something in the air. Charged and uncertain and _wonderful_. She wonders if it’s her or him or the both of them together, flitting around each other and around the thing that’s obviously there. The thing that they refuse to give voice to. 

He shakes his head, his eyes downcast and still not meeting her own. 

“Nick?” His deep yellow eyes shift and she watches him looking at the floor and then his hands and then at a point on the wall above her shoulder. When he finally meets her gaze, she can’t help the smile that tugs at her mouth. He smiles too. Her heart flutters and her stomach tosses in charged anxiety.

“Sorry, it’s just...been a long night is all.” And God help her, but she knows exactly what he means. The smile fades from her face as she remembers. Her dreams, closer to nightmares than anything, were filled with Shaun and The Institute. Screaming and chaos and death. She knows what it all means, she does, but she isn’t ready to accept it, not yet. And if there were any other way to avoid the truth, she would. 

“Nora?” 

She startles when she realizes he has crossed the room. His hand is a burning brand against the small of her back. She can’t breathe through her sudden awareness of him. She wonders if he has any idea how crazy he makes her. 

“Nick, I…” 

Just as she starts to talk, just as the thing crushing her lungs surges up into her mouth, there is a swift knock at her front door. 

“General, there’s been a runner for you,” Preston says through the door. With the gaps in the wall, it’s like he’s in the same room. 

She gives herself a moment to soak in the details of this moment. Nick’s hand on her back. The rush of her pulse. And those words stuck in her throat and sliding back down into her lungs. There would be a time for such words. There would be a time without The Institute, without fear, when she would say the words. Now was not that time.

“I’ll be right out, Preston,” she says as she pulls away from Nick. She hears him sigh, but forces herself out the front door. 

Now was not the time. She wonders how long she has left to hide behind that paltry excuse. 

_ _ _

“We’ve been hearing some rumors,” Desdemona says as soon as she walks through the door to Railroad HQ. The urge to turn right around and leave is so strong that the only thing keeping her grounded is the sight of Deacon grinning up at her over Dez’s shoulder. 

“Just ask her, Dez,” he says. A pregnant pause follows his command. She wonders, not for the first time, if the lie he told her so many weeks ago was a smoke screen of the truth. Desdemona is the leader of The Railroad, but is she the brains too? 

“You’ve found a way inside The Institute,” Desdemona states and Nora can see the spark of betrayal in her eyes. This is why she kept it from them. God help her, but finding her son was more important than furthering their agenda. Was, was, _was_.

“I didn’t hear a question.” Her tone comes out waspish, comes out all wrong. 

“Why didn’t you tell us, Fixer?” 

Nora hears the words for what they really are. _Why didn’t you tell me?_ She respects Desdemona and respects The Railroad for all that they want to accomplish. Before she’d gone into the Institute, she’d thought they were the bad guys. Now? Now, it wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t so black and white, as all things never are on closer inspection. 

There were people and Synths inside the establishment with questions. They were victims as much as she was, trapped in a place with no hope of escape. There were people there that didn’t know any different, that didn’t realize there was an alternative. But how could she explain that to Desdemona? How could she possibly make her understand? 

Her eyes slip past Desdemona and straight to Deacon. He’s got the sunglasses on, as ever, but there is something about the downturn of his lips, the furrow between his brows, and the set of his shoulders that expose the truth in ways even she can muddle out. This moment will define her to him and Dez and all the rest of them. 

She wishes, suddenly _achingly_ , that Nick had come with her. 

“Can we-,” she starts. Her voice fades and she has to clear her throat to get the request out properly. “Can we not do this in front of everyone?” 

Desdemona turns to Deacon. He doesn’t say a word, but he does nod in affirmation. She turns in relief and together, they leave HQ. 

As soon as the door snaps closed behind him, Deacon faces her again with a quirk of his brow. 

“Right,” she begins again. The anxiety isn’t as bad out here, with no one but Deacon and Dez to see her weakness. “You both know that I joined because I wanted to find my son. That’s no secret. I didn’t tell you that I found Virgil because he gave me the plans to build a mass relay to get inside the Institute. I didn’t tell you because I had to go there and see for myself what was there. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want anyone or anything to get in the way of me finding my son. It was self-centered and it was wrong, but I did it anyway.”

“And did you?” Dez asks. “Did you find him?” 

She very nearly breaks at that. 

“I did,” she says. She didn’t know when she left Sanctuary a few hours ago if she would be able to tell them the rest. How could she, knowing what it would mean? But she forces herself to admit the truth. She’s betrayed them for long enough. They deserved to know why. “Shaun is Father. He’s their leader.”

By the sharp intake of breath across the room, she knows how thrown Deacon is. Desdemona doesn’t say a word, just sinks down to sit on the concrete wall behind her. Their silence speaks for them in ways that words never could. She has to wonder how possible it is she could have been wrong. 

“Are you sure, Nora?” Deacon asks. 

“I’m sure. Christ help me, but I’m sure,” she replies. She feels the cold creep into her heart, into her bones. 

“Thank you for being honest, Fixer. It’s...I thought nothing could surprise me anymore, but you have.” 

Whether it’s a good thing or not, she will never know. But she bows her head just the same. She smiles just the same. Always playing a part. The dutiful agent. The dedicated general. The thankful mother. She wonders when it will end, where it will end. The lying and the acting and the God damned betrayals. 

She turns to look at Deacon and startles when his eyes meet her own. It’s the first time she’s ever seen him take his glasses off. She knows how much The Railroad means to him. It had given him a purpose when he was aimless. It had given him hope when he was beaten down. It had been his guiding light in a dark and dangerous world stained with blood and shit and fury. 

The Railroad is everything to him in the same way that Shaun was everything to her. She’d lost Shaun, lost him as finally as if he’d died. And she can see in Deacon’s eyes that he thought he’d lost The Railroad. 

“Tell me what to do, Nora,” he says and she closes her eyes to the pain staring back at her. She knows what he’s asking and she remembers those words he said to her so long ago. 

_He is drunk. She can tell by the way his hands won’t stay still. And the smoky laugh that falls between them._

_He is drunk, but he means the words that come out next. They make her heart stop. They terrify her as much as anything in this new world ever has, because she knows that if it came down to it, Deacon would choose her over The Railroad._

_If you call, I’ll be there. Whatever you need._

She knows he will honor that promise, but she couldn’t ask him to betray himself like that. So, she does the only thing she _can_ do. She reaches for his hand and musters her best smile. She’d lost Shaun. But she would do everything she could to save Deacon from losing The Railroad. Even if it meant destroying the Institute. Even if it meant destroying her son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots to chew on this chapter...I'm so sorry it took me so long. Between work and starting like three new shows, I just haven't had the time to really concentrate on this chapter like I wanted to. But, it's finally out. Thank you guys so much for the support. I really love the kudos and comments I've gotten so far. We still have a long way to go, but I really hope you're still enjoying yourselves. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of all the strange things in this new world of theirs, he is always surprised by the unexpected kindness you could still find in the Commonwealth.

He watches her leave. He watches her leave like it isn’t tearing him up inside not to go with her. With a smile and a falling hand from her shoulder like it’s a habit. And of course she’s gone off without him before, but never like this. Never without someone else to replace him at her six. Hancock or Cait or anyone but the empty space at her side.

She just smiles and presses a kiss to his cheek. It’s a sad and desperate thing, that smile, just the one she gave him last night. He hates how _wrong_ it looks on her. 

She still hasn’t told him what exactly she found at the Institute. Knowing them, probably nothing good. But she came back and who can blame him for feeling relief over that at least?

It feels too much like tempting fate to let her leave by herself this late in the game, but he does it anyway. She isn’t some damsel in distress. She isn’t some stranger fresh out of the Vault with the Old World still clinging to her eyes and the curves of her body. She’s learned a lot over the past months and he knows she can take care of herself, but he won’t feel guilty for worrying. Whether it’s the Old Nick’s detective instincts or something else, he has a bad feeling in his mouth when he watches the last of her duck out of sight.

It takes everything in him not to race after her. His old joints aching and the flash of her grin coursing through his drives. He turns away from the road and makes his way back up the hill to Sanctuary where the Settlers are just getting started with their days. The noise of pots and rustling clothes drowns out the low buzzing of his nerves.  
_ _ _

Nick Valentine doesn’t do well with rest and repose. A day or two here and there, sure, but this… _This_ is killing him. He can sense every second, every minute, every hour just under his synthetic skin. 

The first night is the hardest. It’s unnerving how quiet it is. It’s unnerving how much he can miss her between those seconds, minutes, hours. 

He pushes himself to his feet and whistles for Dogmeat as he steps outside her door. Silence be damned, he isn’t about to spend the next six hours sitting in the dark and worrying over her. He fishes a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it just as Dogmeat trots up beside him. 

“Hey, boy,” Nick says. He laughs when the dog’s head cocks to the side in question. Sometimes, he wonders where Dogmeat came from. Sometimes, there is something too intelligent in his gaze. “You up for a walk?”

Dogmeat whines and pushes his head into Nick’s palm. He supposes that’s a good an answer as any. He nods and together, they start the trek down to the bridge leading out of town. The dog stays pressed close to his side in a way that twists his metaphorical heart. Nora might be gone, but it’s a comfort that he isn’t the one one who misses her. 

He takes a drag of his cigarette and smiles briefly at the rush of nicotine through his systems. It’s an echo of the real thing, of the Old Nick’s memories, but it is something. 

“You’re a long way from home, Mr. Valentine,” a voice floats to him from the darkness and he’s instantly on alert. The cigarette falls from him. His hand goes to the gun at his hip. Sudden fear and adrenaline fill the air. But Dogmeat isn’t growling with his hackles raised. He has rushed off to greet whoever the speaker is. 

He is safe. 

“As safe as you can be in the Wealth,” the voice says and he finally recognizes Mama Murphy’s familiar rasp. He suppresses the urge to shudder, wondering, not for the first time, if Mama Murphy’s gifts include telepathy. He wishes he’d had enough sense not to drop his smoke .

“Preston’ll keep a while longer, Mr. Valentine. Why don’t you come in?” Nick’s eyes focus on the small shadow of her in her doorway. She’s all soft lines, her silhouette etched against the dim flicker of candles burning low inside. He can’t see her face, but he can feel a smile in the air. He hasn’t had much cause to speak with Mama Murphy before this other than the polite hi, how are you and thank you, I’m well. But Nora trusts her and he can’t really think of an excuse not to accept the invitation. 

Dogmeat whines as if to say _come on already_. He dips his head and chuckles as he ducks past her into the house with the scent of Mentats sticking to the back of his throat. 

“Burning the midnight oil?” he says as he sinks down onto her couch. 

“I don’t sleep much these days,” Mama Murphy says. Her voice is wistful and sad and reminds him a little of Nora. 

“I know the feeling,” Nick replies, startling a laugh out of her. She covers her mouth with her tiny, withering hand but can’t cover the grin stretching her lips. 

“I can see why she likes you,” Mama Murphy says with a gleam in her eyes. He can’t blush, but a strange sort of heat flares out from the pit of his chest. He coughs to hide his embarrassment and ducks his head. 

“Do you miss things? From before? Human things like sleeping and eating?” He glances back up at her. He’s met a lot of people since he escaped the Institute. Some of them friendly, others not so much. He’s answered a lot of questions about before and after and all the moments in between. But he’s never stopped to think if he actually _misses_ the things he’s lost. He supposes, in a distant way, he does miss human things but those aren’t for him to miss. It’s all echoes and shadows from the Old Nick. 

“Just because they’re his doesn’t mean they can’t also be yours,” Mama Murphy says. 

“That’s exactly what it means,” Nick says, growls really. A cold rush of fury rocks through him. He snaps his mouth closed before he can say anything else. It is the crux of his existence and he can’t get away from it. He is nothing without Nick’s memories. Everything he has - the agency, his friends, even Nora - are only _his_ because of the Old Nick. And it stings in ways that he hadn’t really considered til now. 

“She doesn’t love Nick Valentine. She loves you. She loves your wit and your goodness and your sense of justice. 

“All parts of Nick’s personality.”

“Nick Valentine is part of you, will always be part of you. But he is not you. He did not kill Eddie Winter. He did not help the Minutemen rise again. He did not meet Nora or fall in love with her. He died before the end of the war and never got justice for Jennifer Lands. He never knew Nora. The choices you have made since you escaped the Institute are yours and yours alone, Mr. Valentine.”

His shoulder sagged and he eased back into the musty cushions of her sofa with the motion. Despite the seriousness of the topic, or perhaps because of it, her speech wrenches a wry laugh out of him. 

“Take the night to think on it. Tomorrow is a new day,” Mama Murphy concludes and stands. She waves her hand vaguely as she turns to go to bed. 

He shakes his head and reaches in his pocket for another cigarette, nearly groaning when he snatches at nothing but empty air. 

“Cannister on the table.”

He leans forward, shooting the dark entry of her room a skeptical look for good measure. He has to admit, if only to himself, that he feels better. A little less lonely. A little less uncertain. Of all the strange things in this new world of theirs, he is always surprised by the unexpected kindness one could still find in the Commonwealth. 

His arm stretches forward and nimbly uncaps the rusted out coffee cannister in the middle of the coffee table. Tucked at the bottom, folded in a scrap of cloth, Nick plucks out a cigarette. Perfectly preserved and leaving stains on the tips of his fingers. He grins and lights it. 

He burns it down to the filter, but he doesn’t leave. He stays put, thoughts racing tails around each other until the first rays of dawn peak through Mama Murphy’s homemade curtains. He watches the colors play across the ramshackle walls until he hears a chorus of cheers outside. He doesn’t need the Sight to know who it is. 

So he stumbles outside, the smell of nicotine trailing behind him. Dogmeat rushes past him and nearly bowls Nora over in his excitement. She laughs, the cadence of it sending heat and hope and love through him in a flash as brilliant as a dying star. 

And when she looks up at him, the fire behind her eyes nearly knocks him to his knees. He watches her watching him, her smile unfurling into something impossibly gentle and tender. He grins back, a happy laugh pushing up into his throat and up and past his lips as he rushes forward and gathers her into his arms. 

She hugs him back just as fiercely, her hair pressed to the side of his face and her arms holding fast to his waist. 

“I missed you,” he says hoarsely. She laughs again, low this time, and soft. She leans away, just enough to look at his face. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are so blue they’re nearly back. An endless expanse he utterly lost himself in.

“I’m here,” she says. “I’m right here.”

Then, she kisses him. Such a simple, chaste thing, but it burns and burns and burns through him. He etches it into his memory and folds it into his heart. This moment is not the Old Nick’s. This memory is not a shared thing for the man he was and the Synth he has become. This is his and his alone. 

He pulls her in again. He can feel her heart pounding against the casing of his chest and he can feel her smile against his neck. 

No, this is _theirs_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to EVERYONE who has been reading, commenting, and sending me kudos for this little fic. And I'm so sorry for the long wait, but I hope it was a least little bit worth it??!!!! Hopefully the next update won't be nearly as long in coming.
> 
> Also, this is completely unbeta'd. Like as in no one else but me has looked at it and I haven't even read through it. So if there's any inconsistencies or spelling errors, don't judge me too harshly lol.

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the Fallout Kink Meme on LJ. Here: http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/7011.html 
> 
> The ending was sort of lackluster, but this part will have multiple chapters, so it's not really an ending after all.


End file.
